O Captain! my Captain!
by Alatar Maia
Summary: The Event coming up is important for everyone, with new legislation being passed over the long-debated and controversial topic of mutants, but Steve's teammates are not as nearly as optimistic as him - especially when evildoers and even the now everyday B-list villains that pop up regularly around the Avengers are nowhere to be seen. He thinks they're just being suspicious.


**Got the inspiration from a poem I read for English class a little while ago. Some of you might recognize it from Dead Poets Society - if not, I recommend you watch it [it's a movie]. And Robin Williams is in it!**

**The poem is _O Captain My Captain, _by Walt Whitman, written [apparently] about Lincoln just after the end of the Civil War. I honestly would not have guessed that, but I'm not very good at 'hidden meaning' stuff.**

**Also partially taken from inukagome15's mutant!Tony verse, without him being a mutant, because that's like half of what I know about the Marvel comics verse. And Civil War. I watched the movie and that's basically the extent of my knowledge [apologies to hardcore Marvel fans].**

**Anyway. Short drabble. Got an idea, had to write it, you know the drill.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers.**

* * *

_O Captain! my Captain! Our fearful trip is done;  
_

_The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won;_

_The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,_

_While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring..._

* * *

Surprisingly, evildoers seemed to be out of ideas in the weeks leading up to The Event.

It was Tony who had given it the surprisingly uncreative name [but then again, his robots were named Butterfingers, You, and Dummy, so Steve probably could have guessed], insisting that calling it The Event instead of 'whatever boring name those government officials are gonna give it, and let's face it, they are going to give it a boring one so why not just go with mine?'

Clint asked him how they were supposed to tell it was capitalized when he was talking.

Tony told him to shut up.

* * *

Bruce was perfectly willing to let the matter of a name rest.

"I don't think what it's called really matters, except to the media," he told Steve, taking a long sip from a mug of coffee. Another one, next to a plate covered in tinfoil, sat to his right - Bruce had come up to get something to force the eccentric [and slightly self-destructive] billionaire to eat. "It's a real step forward, you know?"

"Yeah." And Steve did know - he might be a soldier from the 40's, out of place and [as he used to be] out of his comfort zone, but he'd had time to adjust, thank you. And mutants had been one of the first things to come up under current events.

Steve was forcibly reminded of the prejudice against Gabe, just because of his skin color, and had immediately taken their side.

The Event in question was the passing of a bill that would guarantee certain rights for those with the X-gene, as it was called, but it was mostly a formal thing - it was passed in all but the almost ritualistic 'official' passing, which would be a few weeks from now.

"I should go take this down to Tony, he looked like he was about to collapse. Said he's had a real breakthrough, but he can remember it later."

"Alright, then. See you, Doctor."

"Bruce."

"Bruce. Right." One thing Steve still hadn't gotten used to was calling the other Avengers by their first names, but he'd gotten used to it with the Commandos - he could deal here. "Uh, good luck with Tony."

Bruce snorted as he stepped into the elevator. "I'll probably need it."

* * *

Natasha had been mostly quiet in the week leading up to The Event.

"Something wrong?"

"It's too quiet." Natasha's elbows were balanced on her knees, her hands in turn cupping her chin.

"What is?" New York had never been quiet, especially _now, _but it takes Steve only a second to realize that that's probably not what Natasha meant.

"Everything," Natasha replied. "There's no way Magneto's group of mutants would be okay with this passing, but they haven't done anything."

Steve frowned, because something didn't seem quite right about what she'd said. "Mutants wouldn't be okay with it?" Had he missed something?

"A specific group of mutants," Natasha clarified. "They're more on the 'attack non-mutants' side of the spectrum. This bill would kind of ruin what they have right now."

"Okay." Steve sat down, beginning to understand what Natasha was saying. "So it's odd because they're not doing anything."

"Exactly." Natasha shook her head. "By now, _something _would have happened - should have happened."

"What can they do? It's basically assured that it's gonna pass." _Lucky for us, _Steve thought, because Tony had showed him some of the alternatives that people had come up with instead of this bill.

'Nasty' didn't even _begin _to cover it.

"It's not just them." Natasha glanced at Steve, one eyebrow cocked in skepticism and her expression giving him the idea that she expected him to agree wholeheartedly with whatever she was about to say. "How much time have we had, since we all moved into the Tower, without a _single _attack - even the low-grade guys that take about five minutes?"

She is right, Steve realizes. Since the Avengers became an 'official' thing [and the media had been having a field day with them ever since] there was always someone waiting in the wings to challenge them, to see if they could take down the seemingly undefeatable team.

A super-soldier, a billionaire in a flying suit, two secret agents, a god, and a 'guy with breathtaking anger management issues'.

They were a pretty big challenge, but normally they won.

"We'll take care of whatever pops up," Steve replied, trying to be reassuring.

"Nothing's popped up, cap." Natasha met his gaze steadily. "That's the problem."

* * *

'The calm before the storm', Natasha had called it.

And there was a storm waiting in the wings.

But it was impossible to tell whether it would be a rainstorm or a hurricane.

Clint would probably agree with Natasha, if Steve asked [or if he could find the ever-elusive archer] but Steve decided he'd had enough of forebodings and pessimistic views.

Maybe spies had a more black-and-white view of things, but he preferred to go with the idea that maybe, for once, things were looking up for them.

* * *

Right now, though, Steve thought that maybe Natasha had been overreacting.

Before and during The Event, even when they'd arrived only to be immediately escorted inside by armed bodyguards, there hadn't been much trouble [aside from a couple of over-exuberant reporters who had attempted to get inside for a scoop, only to be summarily sent to the other side of town].

And now all was said and done, and standing on the courthouse steps in the sun, Steve couldn't help but feel a little bit pleased with how it had all turned out.

They'd passed the bill, things would be a little better for mutants everywhere, and [hopefully] this Brotherhood would finally fall apart.

"No, see, I don't do that."

"You _do!" _Clint was laughing, the most open in public Steve had ever seen him.

Tony spun on his heel to face Steve. "Hey, you're a person, be the tiebreaker, will ya?"

"What is it now?" Steve felt a grin growing on his face - he always seemed to be grinning in Tony's presence. The man had a charismatic atmosphere around him.

"Well, Clint says I-"

_Bang!_

There was a sudden rush of panic, the grin was wiped off of Tony's face and was replaced by sudden horror, and there was so much shouting around him that it took Steve a moment to process what had happened.

_Oh._

Shaky hands reached up, his own, feeling at his chest, and the warm wetness that was seeping down. Steve stared down, uncomprehending of the redness, and his hands were numb - was he hallucinating? It didn't feel like there was blood on his hands.

There were hands on him, pushing against his wait, and it was then that Steve realized he'd fallen, knees digging into the pavement and Tony's face was in his line of view again. He still looked worried, and Steve wanted to tell him not to, he'd gotten through worse before, he could last through this, he was only bleeding a little, but his voice didn't seem to be cooperating and all that came up was a cough and a gagging sound, and a bitter wetness in his mouth as well.

"No, no, no, Steve, you're fine." Tony's voice was working fine, though, and he was talking nonstop. "Listen to me, you're gonna be fine, okay, they called an ambulance, it's on its way here, you just gotta hang on, oh God, you're not bleeding that badly you know it's just a flesh wound-"

The bizarre desire to laugh bubbles up in Steve, when he remembers that ridiculous British movie Tony showed them only a few days ago - the one with the same five actors over again that they'd all laughed at, but all that comes out is another wet, hacking cough that sounds bad even to Steve.

And, with a sinking feeling, Steve knows what's happening.

His hand fumbles for Tony's, finds the billionaire's hand and grips it tight, or at least as tight as he can right now. It doesn't matter that he's probably getting his own blood all over it, because Steve knows what's happening.

The super-soldier serum can do a lot of things, but it can't fix a bullet in the heart.

"What are you - no, Steve, you gotta stay awake-"

* * *

_...But O heart! heart! heart!_

_O the bleeding drops of red,_

_Where on the deck my Captain lies,_

_Fallen cold and **dead.**_

_O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;_

_Rise up - for you the flag is flung - for you the bugle trills;_

_For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths - for you the shores a-crowding;_

_For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;_

_Here Captain! dear father!_

_This arm beneath your head;_

_It is some dream that on the deck,_

_You've fallen cold and dead.  
_

_My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;_

_My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;_

_The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;_

_From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;_

_Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!_

_But I, with mournful tread,_

_Walk the deck my Captain lies,_

_Fallen cold and dead._


End file.
